For Love or an Earldom
by ShouldHaveStuckToReading
Summary: Edward travels to England to seek the return of his mother’s lands, only to become ensnared in Charles’ scheming. Originally written for the Age of Edward contest, continued for Cosmo9. Set in medieval England c. 1288. AH/AU, ExB, Very OOC, Lemons.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was originally written as a one-shot for the Age of Edward Contest, but then the lovely cosmo9 bought my services in the Fandom Gives Back auction**** and made me all kinds of happy by requesting a bit more. THEN she even agreed to share, which is just another reason why she is awesome.**

**Some things you should know. This one is set in medieval England, c. 1288. I'm using British English on purpose, because it is set there (and that's a great excuse). While every effort has been made to be historically accurate, it's far from perfect. In some cases I had my reasons, in others--I probably just stuffed up. lol.**

**Thanks again, cosmo9! :)**

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The tall, bronzed-hair youth approached the dais cautiously, pausing at the far end as he was announced to the lord. He had known that coming here was a gamble; Charles was not renowned for his kindness, and Edward came to beg a significant bounty.

The nobleman was enjoying his meal. There were plates of cheese and bread spread out before him. Edward had not intended to interrupt the lord's eating. At home, they rarely partook in suppertime. Here, however, it seemed the lord did not practice abstinence. As he watched the lord consume some form of stew, Edward chastised himself for being so hasty to announce his arrival. He should have waited—it was quite possible the lord would resent the disruption.

Before he could further lament his bad timing, he saw the squire appear beside Charles and lean over to whisper in his ear. Edward watched as the lord's face registered surprise, and then watched as his eyes scanned the room searching for him. Edward shifted ever so slightly, suddenly uncomfortable with the approaching scrutiny. The lord's battle-weary eyes caught the small movement in his periphery, and his head swivelled immediately in Edward's direction.

Charles' gaze narrowed as he appraised Edward. The youth was tall, dressed in an azure tunic that upon closer inspection was not as rich as it first seemed. His cloak was black, furless, which could be due to the warmer weather or his lack of funds. Charles could see the hilt of a sword sheathed at his side and was stunned to see it was a man's sword. _Could he really be of age already?_

With relief, Charles realised he wasn't. Calawah's heir was born the same year as Charles' third daughter. Most people had thought Calawah's wife to be barren, a curse brought upon themselves by his blatant disregard for the Church and his king. It had taken them many years to conceive. Charles himself had found a new bride and begot two daughters in that time.

His gaze returned to the face of the youth and he felt his chest constrict slightly at the sight of his eyes. They were her eyes, a most piercing green—the colour of emeralds. He had his father's features, but Charles could see the boy had his mother's soul.

He gestured with his hand for the boy to come forward. Edward hesitated briefly before straightening his back and moving to stand at the foot of the dais, directly in front of Charles. His boldness impressed Charles. _He will be brave_, he thought to himself, admiring the stance of the boy.

"Your name?" he asked, his voice bellowing with authority.

The boy lifted his chin slightly, "Edward Anthony Masen, son of Edward of Calawah, and Elizabeth..." he trailed off, his voice losing some of its confidence.

"Your intent?"

The boy looked down at his boots. For a moment Charles expected him to begin scuffing them in the floor rushes. He was relieved when instead the boy again straightened and answered.

"I am here to reclaim my mother's inheritance." He glared at the lord above him, challenging him to rebuke his request.

Charles was quiet while he considered the boy's words. He had known that is what the lad wished for. It was his by right, and Charles knew the day would come when he would have to forfeit his own claim to the Forks Earldom.

Charles drank deeply from his goblet while he considered the best course of action. He could not legally deny the boy's claim and had no wish to incite the wrath of the king. However, he was dependent on the income he was receiving from all his land, Forks included. He had planned on retaining it for at least a few more years, until the lad turned twenty-one. Relinquishing it now would place an additional strain upon his finances.

But perhaps he didn't need to relinquish it just yet. The boy was young; mayhap he could be persuaded into some arrangement. It was possible that Charles could find a way to delay restoring title to the boy. But he needed more time to think it through.

Charles gestured to his squire to come forward.

"Ensure the Lord of Calawah's needs are attended to," he ordered.

The youth started a bit at the use of his father's title, and then appeared dispirited when he realised the lord had no intention of answering his request. Charles softened his face slightly as he addressed him.

"Young Calawah, please enjoy our hospitality. Afterwards, you will be brought to my quarters and we shall discuss this matter with more privacy."

The slight flush on the boy's face was the only indication of his relief as his expression remained unchanged. "Thank you, my lord." He bowed slightly before returning to his place at the side of the hall.

Charles noticed his etiquette was impeccable and he smiled fondly. _Elizabeth trained him well_. He watched as his squire led the young lord towards an empty bench and found him a cup of ale. The boy drank deeply; he appeared parched.

_Did he even stop to eat?_ Charles wondered.

Charles had not yet received news of Edward of Calawah's death, but he knew that would be the only reason for the man's son to suddenly appear. From the looks of the boy, he had not stopped riding since he reached English soil. That would explain how he outpaced the messengers.

He had potential, Charles decided. He had the makings of a fine lord: bravery, determination, manners. Charles thought it would do him well to keep this lad on side.

_But how?_

The boy must resent him. Charles had effectively stolen from his family. It mattered not that the king bestowed the title on him in retaliation for Calawah's treachery. The lad would probably even agree that his father had wronged Charles grievously, having married his betrothed.

Charles never blamed Elizabeth for the betrayal, only Calawah. He had come back from crusade, praised and adored by everyone, and simply taken her from him. For that, Calawah had to be punished—exile was the least he deserved. But to also revoke Elizabeth's lands? At the time, Charles had concurred with the king that it was necessary.

Many of the lords were uncomfortable with the ruling. The title belonged to Elizabeth—it should have been held for her offspring. The king had relented after a time, allowing the title to be restored "at such time as Charles sees fit." Charles could have returned the title sooner, but he had delayed. He sent word several years ago that he would wait until the boy was of an age, citing the need for stability in the realm. It was a thinly veiled excuse to steal the family's income.

The king would never expect him to repay those monies he had received from the estate, but if the lad sought the king's council, Charles knew he would be forced to surrender all future income. If only he could convince the boy to let him retain control for a bit longer. Perhaps he can be bought with something other than the coin. A Knighthood? Perhaps a position of importance in his own household? _There must be something else that the boy wants_.

It was then he saw his answer. A young serving maid with stringy, strawberry blond hair was leaning across the table to pour more ale. Her ample cleavage was spilling over the top of her obviously out-grown kirtle and the boy's eyes had yet to look away. Charles had thought the lad thirsty before, but he could see now that this was a thirst that had never been quenched.

The young serving girl noticed the boy's gaze and she eyed him appreciatively. Charles now remembered overhearing his squires talk of the 'slut' in the kitchen. She would welcome the young man's advances. And if she caught wind of Edward being a lord, Charles had no doubt she would forget to take her pennyroyal draught afterward.

Charles would not let the lad waste his seed on the serving whore. He now had other plans.

Edward drank five cups of ale while he ate. He had never consumed so much, so quickly before and he could definitely feel the effect it was having. Initially, it was to quench his thirst. But once he laid eyes on the serving girl, he just wanted to see her again and again.

Edward's father had been a strict man. Life at their manor was run with perfect regularity. Edward trained and studied hard every day, as did his two younger brothers. Almost all of what the family had was lost when their father fell out of favour with the king. Edward knew he would be the only one that could reinstate the family's reputation, so he took his responsibilities very seriously. He also swore to never to bring shame upon the family name the way his parents had.

The king of France had granted them respite and allowed them to reside in one of the small manors Edward's father owned there, but that was the extent of their amnesty. The local lords shunned them, not willing to incite the English king's wrath by associating with his enemy. There was nowhere Edward could be sent as a squire, so his own father had had to train him. Edward had envied the freedom of other boys his age, being able to attend alehouses and tournaments. He had no such privileges under his father's watchful eye.

Being so busy, it was rare Edward felt the need to engage in female companionship. While he noticed the young maidens eyeing him hopefully in the village, he was far too responsible to dally with them. He also had no wish to visit his family's misfortunes on any child he may possibly have begot.

There was also another, secret motivation that Edward had for not pursuing those girls; Edward truly wanted something more. He was looking for what his parents had—a rarity in their world. They loved each other, enough to elope and ruin both of their futures. It was heartbreaking and heart-warming all at the same time. Next to that, petty dalliances held little interest for him. They looked like poor imitations of the real thing.

But that had been before. When Edward first noticed the serving girl's chest he was instantly aroused. He had never seen anything like it. She wasn't flaunting it in his face like the whores in the bawdy house windows did—this was much more subtle. It was more like a ritual, a special dance she was performing for him alone.

When she leaned over to retrieve his cup she would squeeze her arms together. It had the effect of pushing more of her breasts out for him to see. The third time she poured, Edward had forgotten decorum and openly stared. He had seen part of her nipple.

She would straighten back up, and breathe deeply, making her chest rise and fall, mesmerising him. The last time she did this, she casually touched her chest, gently tugging at the fabric. When Edward met her eyes he saw that they smouldered with desire.

All thoughts of responsibility and abstinence left his mind. Tonight he would lie with this girl—of that he was certain.

He had barely contained himself through the rest of the meal; his loins were on fire with anticipation. His mouth ran dry, but he dared not ask for more ale. He couldn't cope with further stimulation, and he belatedly realised he needed to be somewhat sober to talk to the Earl.

He turned his attention back to the Earl, but was surprised to see him missing. Edward felt disappointment flood him. He had assumed that Charles would send for him at the end of his meal. That he hadn't done so was not a good omen.

Just as Edward was considering drowning his sorrows in more ale and cleavage, the young squire approached and beckoned to him. He stood and swaying ever so slightly, followed the squire up to the second floor of the tower and through to a large room. He stepped inside, unwillingly envious of the size of the Earl's quarters. There was very little light from the two candles that burned in the room: one beside the dresser against the far wall, another closer to the entrance on a small table near the bed. No fire burned in the room as the weather was warm enough to not need it.

"The Earl would like you to remain here until he sends for you," the squire declared before leaving and pulling the heavy wooden door shut behind him where it thudded noisily against the doorframe.

The sound was ominous and a sense of dread started to fill Edward. He tried to shake it by examining the room. There were fine hangings on the wall, the likes of which Edward had never seen. The bed was much bigger than that of his parents, and looked to be softer too. He eyed it wistfully as he finally felt the effect of so many hours spent in the saddle.

From the corner of his eye he noticed the smallest movement and he turned quickly to see what had caused it, almost losing his balance in the process. There, in the shadows, on the other side of the bed, was another person.

"Who goes there?" he asked uncertainly. It was not his chamber, after all.

"I am Isabella," a soft, feminine voice said. He watched as the figure moved closer to the candle light. She leaned in slowly and he watched as her face was revealed to him, inch by inch. She was beautiful—far more so than the serving girl. Her skin was so smooth and pale, like the finest of porcelains. He could not see her hair, buried as it was beneath her veil and wimple, but hoped it was dark auburn. Edward often argued with his brothers about the most beautiful shade of hair. Where Jasper and Emmett believed it was gold, the colour of sunlight, Edward had always preferred a reddish-brown. He started to move around the bed in order to see more of this tantalising girl. He wanted also to know if her bosom was as ample as the girl downstairs.

She was still leaning into the candle, but just as it was about to illuminate her chest she exhaled sharply and blew it out. The room became even darker.

"What is your name?" she asked. He could hear from her voice that she had moved closer.

"Edward of Calawah," he replied quietly, still uncomfortable with the title.

"I have been waiting for you, Edward." Now she was close. If he reached out he was sure he would touch her. He had no doubt the girl was being purposely seductive, which could only mean she was a whore.

He had heard of the ways of the nobility, knew there were those that took sins of the flesh as their right. He had not thought the Earl was one of them, though now the Earl's words came back to him with perfect clarity, "_Ensure the Lord of Calawah's needs are attended to._" He had innocently assumed he'd meant food, drink, the use of a privy, perhaps even a bath. There was much he had to learn about the life of a noble.

He felt her walk pass him and heard the rustle of her skirts. Her perfume drifted over gradually and assaulted his senses. She smelled like flowers—_Storm flowers_—the freesias that spring from the ground after rain.

He heard her pick up the candle from the table behind him and then watched the light flicker as she carried it back toward him.

"I want to see you now," she said, her voice confident and clear.

The light crept forward as she brought the candle around him. When she held it even with his face he was able to see her clearly in the glow.

She gasped as their eyes met. Although no noise left his lips, he felt the same way. Her eyes were brown but uncommonly beautiful. Her lips were soft, puckered and pink. He reached up and, after pausing briefly to see if she would object, freed her hair, sighing inwardly as he saw the deep brown flecked with red in the candlelight.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, truly entranced.

"As are you, my lord," she responded, the surprise obvious in her tone and expression. She brought the candle to her lips and blew it out, all the while holding his eyes with her own.

He heard her place the candle on the floor and was then startled when her hands touched the sides of his face. The girl brought her lips to his and he said a silent prayer that at least one of them was experienced. She would be able to show him what to do.

She was gentle so he returned the kisses gently. Then the pressure increased and Edward felt his member come to life as he reached his arms around her. Her tongue licked at him and, taken aback, he pulled away, wondering what she was doing. He was too embarrassed to ask though, so instead he returned to kissing her. When her tongue again sought entry, he allowed it.

Tentatively, he let her guide his own tongue out into her mouth. He licked around hers, amazed by the utter sensuality of the act. He sucked and prodded her mouth, and squeezed her body to him tightly. It was much more than what he imagined kissing to be like, more than he had ever seen others do.

She moved closer to him still, and leaned her hips against his erection. Again, he broke away from her, wanting to see her face, wanting to know if he was being foolish. Although it was still dark, his eyes had adjusted enough to see her expression. She looked lustful, but still tense, even a little scared? He was glad the girl was at least partly afraid of him. He felt his masculinity well up and fill him with the confidence that he was capable of bedding her.

He returned his mouth to hers and picked her slight form up by the waist, carrying her to the large feather bed. He hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Perhaps anticipating his lack of experience in these matters she began pulling her gown and underclothes up. He watched, unable to hide his fascination as her pale thighs glowed in the moonlight.

She settled the fabric around her waist, leaving herself exposed to him. He suddenly realised he should probably respond in kind. Feeling foolish, he stood at the foot of the bed and drew his tunic and undershirt over his head. His boots came next. Then he undid the drawstring on his braises and let them slide down his legs, taking his hose with them. He was completely naked when he climbed back on to the bed.

He was a bit of a loss as to what to do next but then the cool air drove him under the sheets. She copied his actions, but again they stalled. He was starting to get frustrated. He had no idea what he was doing and she was supposed to be leading him.

As if she heard his thoughts she leaned in and kissed his lips again. It was much the same as before, though it felt more intimate now that he was lying next to her unclothed. Her bunched up skirts created an unwelcome barrier between their chests, but he preferred that to trying to figure out how to undress her. When it became uncomfortable, he stopped kissing for long enough to shift the bulk of the fabric behind her.

He was now free to explore her body. He felt her soft, warm thighs with his legs and tentatively reached down to stroke them. They were like the softest silk and the feel of them caused his member to ache painfully. Unable to contain himself, he shifted and pressed himself against her thigh. This elicited a soft gasp from her, and a low growl from him.

She quickly reclaimed his mouth with her own and then moved her hips so that he was nestled between them. Again, he pushed against her, but instead of the warm softness of her thigh, this time he felt the soft down of her sex. He felt the hardness of her bones underneath and marvelled that he should enjoy this more than the softness. He pushed again and again, revelling in just how good it felt. After the fourth thrust he stopped, knowing that if he wanted to lose his virginity tonight, he needed to control himself.

Although Edward had not lain with a woman before, he was aware of what needed to be done. He rolled her onto her back and awkwardly positioned himself above her and waited for her approval. She didn't say anything though, just closed her eyes and opened her thighs to allow him entry. He took that to be enough permission and—rather hastily—angled his cock to slide in between her legs.

It didn't go in. He pulled back and tried again but he couldn't find the opening. He started to panic as his inexperience was becoming painfully obvious. And it was painful. On his third attempt they both yelped as he attempted to carve a hole in the top of her thigh.

He couldn't have been more thankful when she reached below the blankets and wrapped her petite hand around his cock and guided him. It felt incredible to have her touch him—he had to restrain himself from pumping into her hand.

She nestled his tip in amongst her sex and gently used it to open herself up. So many thoughts were flittering through Edward's mind in that moment. The sensation, the guilt, but overwhelmingly, just the joy that this was finally about to happen.

He pushed slowly, amazed at the feeling, and gasped for air as he felt himself enter her. For a moment he thought there was something wrong, that perhaps he didn't fit. Driven by instinct he thrust hard into her. He heard her sharp intake of breath and felt her stiffen below him. He was too far gone to worry about her reaction though. The sensation of being completely sheathed inside of a woman pushed all thoughts of inadequacy from his mind.

She was warm and tight and wet. He slipped back out slightly and pushed in again. As good as it felt to just be inside of her, it felt better when he moved, so he kept moving, again, and again.

It was much better than when he did it to himself. The times when he had enough privacy to stroke and fondle his member were few and far between. And they were always accompanied by a sense of urgency and fear of discovery that rendered it little more than shameful release. There was very little pleasure in that act. Bedding this girl was worlds away from self stimulation.

He was starting to make some rather embarrassing noises, so he buried his head in the feather pillow, taking it between his teeth to muffle the sounds. The girl, Isabella, was quiet. _Almost too quiet_. He peaked at her and saw her brow furrowed with the effort of squeezing her eyes shut. She didn't look like she was enjoying herself.

He thrust again and his thoughts of the girl disappeared. Now he was struggling to think of anything but his own pleasure. He pulled out and thrust. Pulled out and thrust. The girl was unresponsive. He expected writhing, at least some form of touching. But this Isabella lay completely still. He was sure the serving girl would have been more outgoing. Thoughts of her ample chest heaving beneath him entered his mind.

_I haven't yet felt her breasts!_

He still had no idea of this girl's cleavage. He reached down and stroked her side before wrapping his hand around her left bosom. It felt smaller, a lot smaller than the serving girl, but it also felt right.

He stared at his hand on her, relishing the first time he had touched a girl this way. When he looked back up to her face, he was surprised to see she was no longer closed off. She was looking at his hand on her breast as if he were the first man to ever touch her like that. So he did. He pawed her, squeezed and rubbed. Her hooded eyes looked into his briefly before returning to her chest. Her breathing was becoming heavier, and faster.

Edward resumed his thrusting with increased vigour, being spurred on by her reactions. He kept groping her breast with his right hand, and she kept breathing harder. It was all becoming too much and his wrist was starting to ache from supporting his weight.

He swapped hands and started on her other breast. She moaned with the fresh contact, and threw her head back exposing the perfect arch of her neck. He couldn't help himself and leaned it to start kissing it. She moaned again and so he added some tongue, tasting her sweet, salty skin.

After thoroughly ravishing her neck, he settled back into a steady rhythm of stroking, losing himself in the ecstasy. He removed his hands from her chest so he could concentrate on what he was doing. He increased the tempo slightly and found it felt better. He increased it a bit more and lost all control. He began slamming into her. All other thoughts left his mind until it was only him and his cock, pounding and dominating for his pleasure. Harder. Faster. Harder. He felt nothing but the need to gratify himself.

He felt his climax building and did nothing to rein it in. He wanted it. But he also wanted more. His hand reached out and roughly grabbed the girl's breast again and he squeezed it while imagining it bare beneath his hands. The girl responded to his touch and her insides clamped down on him. It was too much and he spilled into her, gasping and heaving into the pillow beside her head.

He couldn't move. He felt his cock slide out of her all sticky and wet but still he just lay there. After a few minutes he had somewhat regained his composure and he rolled off the girl in order to make her more comfortable. He had never felt so relieved; it was the ultimate satisfaction. He lay there wondering again why he had waited so long to lay with a woman. At least he understood now why the church proclaimed it an illicit pleasure.

He glanced across at the girl beside him that had given him the greatest joy of his life. She looked content now, so he hoped that meant she enjoyed it. He was tempted to ask about his performance, but felt too silly drawing attention to his inexperience like that, so he didn't say anything.

She looked back at him and smiled, a beautiful, angelic smile. He had a sudden urge to want to keep her, to never let her be with another man. Of course, he knew he couldn't, but he at least hoped he would be able to lay with her again. He remembered the state of his finances and how he probably did not have enough to pay her. That again brought back feelings of inadequacy and he turned and climbed out of the bed.

"I have no means of payment, but I will have, soon." He reached down and drew his braises up his legs before sitting to fix his hose.

He heard her sharp intake of breath and realising he must have upset her with his forthrightness, turned to offer his apology. He never spoke though, his words frozen by the look on her face.

She stared at him in shock; her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide. Then she clamped her lips together, appearing suddenly determined; a look that would have been more convincing if not for her glistening eyes.

_She is sad?_

He was about to offer comfort, but she raised her chin and started to speak.

"I am not a whore," she said venomously.

It was Edward's turn to be shocked. He had insulted her. He moved to sit next to her on the bed, but as he rested his hand on the fabric of her dress it caught his attention. It was soft. Very soft.

For the first time, Edward really looked at the girl in front of him. He saw the rich wool of her gown. _Not the gown of a whore_. He saw how shiny and soft her hair was. _Not the hair of a whore_. Then with horror, he noticed the dark stain that was between her legs—the ultimate proof of her words.

Her eyes followed his and she too saw the dark stain on the sheets. She quickly climbed out of the bed as if to distance herself from it, pulling her skirts down to cover her shame.

Panic gripped Edward like vice and he glared at her, terrified of what he had just done.

"Who are you?" he begged.

She softened at his obvious distress and made to answer him, but was cut off by the sound of the heavy wooden door being pushed open. Light flickered into the room from the torch that the entering squire carried.

Edward stood half on, half off the bed, in nothing but his braises and hose, and waited for what would surely be his death.

Charles headed up the stairs with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation. He hoped to God that his plan had worked. The boy certainly seemed randy enough at supper, but he may also be too well reared to bed a girl he just met.

He thought briefly about what Elizabeth would think of his little scheme. She had been stolen from him by Calawah before they were ever intimate. _If only Elizabeth had been more like my Bella_, he lamented. She would have been ruined for any other man and then been his to keep. Instead, she protected her virtue like it was the Holy Grail. He knew she would even have insisted Calawah marry her before bedding her. If Calawah had been more of a man and just seduced her, she may have even kept her pledge to him. Charles would still have married her despite the indiscretion, for he had loved her.

He had no doubt Bella would try to seduce Elizabeth's son. He'd seen some of the lads she had already ensnared and they were not nearly as handsome. And this boy came with a title—she wouldn't be able to resist. He just hoped she was successful in her endeavours, for it would solve two problems for him: the marriage of his third daughter, hitherto unable to be matched, and the little matter of Edward's request. This would give him leverage over the boy, perhaps enough to convince him to allow Charles to retain control over his lands.

Bella had been excited when he'd made the proposal to her earlier. He had taken her to his chamber during supper to tell her the news.

"Isabella, I believe I have found you a young Lordling," he'd said while calmly pouring her a glass of wine.

"Young?" she'd asked sceptically. It wasn't the first match he had proposed for her. She had been quick to suspect another old, widowed Knight.

"Yes."

"What lands does he have? Is he even English?"

"He is English, though he has been overseas most of his life." Charles had gambled on his daughter's lack of court knowledge as he'd laid his trap. "He is an Earl."

Isabella's eyes had grown wider and her mouth had broken into a huge grin. "When will I be able to meet him?"

He'd laughed out loud. "I'm afraid it is not quite that simple. You see, Isabella, he isn't aware of you—yet. I will bring him to you tonight, to give you a chance to impress the young lordling. But you will have to persuade him to want you." Charles had made a point of looking over his daughter's body. "I think you will find a way."

His eyes had returned to her face and he'd seen she was seething. Over what he'd had no idea. The girl was a ridiculous flirt. She'd had been caught no less than eight times in compromising positions with young men around the castle grounds. And that was only the times Charles knew about!

Charles knew she was mostly just acting out. It was unusual for a girl of her age and lineage to not already be married. To him, it was expected that she would have normal human weaknesses and desires that she fulfilled. Lord knows he didn't set a good example for her on how to live chastely. Of all his daughters, Isabella was most like a son, and he was willing to indulge her a little more than society would normally allow.

He chuckled as he reached the large door outside of her bedroom, thinking on how he was lucky that his daughter was so unruly. She had truly done him a great service this evening, for he had no doubt she would bed Calawah. She was just as shrewd as he was, and she would realise this was the best match she could ever hope to make.

He reached the landing outside of his daughter's chamber and paused. The squire he had left there to eavesdrop was as red as a beetroot. He looked embarrassed about having to listen to the lord's daughter bed the young lord Calawah illicitly, but Charles caught a glimpse of the real reason the boy was so mortified: a telltale bulge in his pants displaying his arousal. Charles thought nothing of it, having been in too many bawdy houses experiencing the same unusual feelings as he listened to the raw sounds of pleasure.

"Are they done?" he asked the boy.

"Yes, my lord," he muttered, looking at his feet.

"Then you are excused," Charles stated and was amused at the speed with which the young squire bowed and departed.

Charles turned to face the door and said a quick prayer to Saint Valentine that his plan would work. He pushed open the door and motioned for his torch-bearing squire to enter ahead of him. He wanted to be sure he could clearly see their reactions.

He stepped through and surveyed the scene in front of him.

The boy was half-dressed and looked as though he was caught whilst climbing back onto the bed. His daughter stood on the other side, her hair in disarray, her clothing dishevelled. Even without the squire's confirmation he would know they had been intimate. The boy looked horrified, which pleased Charles to no end. _This is going to be easy!_

Charles did his best impersonation of an irate father as he swept his eyes over Edward. He looked with disdain at the boy's lack of clothing, and sent a pointed glare at the bed he was leaning over. That was when he noticed the stain.

His thoughts reeled from the unmistakable proof of his daughter's now non-existent maidenhood. He had thought for sure she was no longer a virgin. Hell, even she had alluded to being deflowered after she was caught in the stable. He returned his gaze to Edward, and this time didn't have to fake his ire.

Edward's fate was sealed—he had to marry his daughter. The boy looked on the verge of fainting and Charles knew he would do anything he wanted of him, including rescinding any claim to the Forks Earldom. Charles found little pleasure in his victory though. He needed to talk to his daughter.

He turned to the torch bearer and spoke, "Accompany Calawah to my personal chambers." Then, turning back to Edward, he commanded him, "Leave us!"

Edward sent a desperate look to Bella, but her eyes were fixed on Charles, so he quickly collected his clothes and hurried out of the room. The torch bearer turned and lit the wall sconce next to the doorway before exiting, leaving Charles alone with his daughter in muted candlelight.

He wanted to approach her, but he was unsure what her feelings toward him were so he stayed where he was.

"Bella, I had no idea," he said apologetically, gesturing toward the obvious stain. "If I had known, I would never have expected you to... meet with the boy." He noted she didn't look mad. He let himself feel a hint of relief for that.

"Father, you could not have known," she said quietly, shaking her head ever so slightly from side to side.

"But I should not have suspected otherwise. I should never have doubted your virtue—" He was cut off by a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Of course you should have," she yelled. "It was my intention for you to think me soiled, knowing it would make it harder for you to marry me off." She stepped toward her father, reaching out to him. "I only ever wanted to marry for love."

Charles embraced his daughter comfortingly, but was inwardly starting to seethe. That she had deceived him was not unexpected—his daughter had shown herself to be as shrewd as he was. It still hurt that she did it, but he understood her motivation. What infuriated him was her last statement. For her to have waited all this time, and then thrown her innocence away on this impoverished boy was ludicrous. He pulled away from her and held her at arm's length.

"You do realise I will have to force him to marry you. You will not be marrying for love, Isabella. This is still political." His voice was louder than usual as he struggled to maintain his anger.

She stared up at him, her cheeks slightly tear-stained after their brief embrace. "Everyone has their price father. It turns out mine is an Earldom," she shrugged her shoulders as she said the last bit and Charles was horrified. She had sold her virtue for an Earldom. Worse. She had sold her virtue for an Earldom the boy didn't possess—a waste of her most precious gift.

Charles knew then he could no longer keep the Earldom from Edward. His daughter had given herself to the boy because Charles had asked it of her. Now he was aware of the magnitude of her sacrifice, he could not cheat her of the winnings. He would have to grant Calawah's request, on the condition he took his daughter as his wife.

He drew his daughter to him one last time, gently kissing the top of her head in forgiveness.

"I'll have your ladies sent to you. And I will make sure you get your Earl," he whispered into her hair. They pulled away from each other and Charles left to confront his soon to be son-in-law.

Bella watched her father exit the room with triumphant eyes. She had done it! Her father would never have matched her to a wealthy, titled man. But now he was off to do just that.

She returned to the bed, somewhat sore from Edward's lovemaking, and waited for her ladies. She decided to request a bath, some wine, and some supper—her father having interrupted hers earlier in the evening.

Her father had always underestimated her understanding of politics, but she was really quite well learned. There was a reason she always let the squires and messenger boys kiss her—they kept her informed on such matters. She knew there was no eligible and young Lord in the realm, so her first thoughts were that he must be foreign. After his next words she realised who it was. Bella knew the young Lord must be here to claim back the Earldom of Forks. She also knew her father would have no intention of ceding it to him.

She had been unsure if she would try to win the young Lord over, but on seeing him, the issue lost all meaning. He could be poor forever and she would not have cared. Never in her life had she found a man so appealing. He had a full head of hair, all of his teeth, clear skin, and his youth. But even more than that, he was attractive. If she could have dreamed of a perfect mate for her, he would look like Edward of Calawah.

Knowing the Lord was attractive, and knowing she had the power to grant him his land, Bella let him take her maidenhead. As she felt the painful sting and the warm flow of blood she had been happy with the knowledge that there would be evidence for her father. She never truly expected to enjoy the act of sex itself, having heard before that young men made terrible lovers. So she wasn't disappointed with the experience. She was, however, surprised by how much she enjoyed Edward fondling her breasts. It made her a little giddy to think he would be doing that again.

Bella closed her eyes as she lay back against her pillow, content with her work for the evening: a young lover, a title, and a father who would feel forever indebted to her. She sighed loudly and didn't try to suppress the grin of accomplishment that spread across her face.

* * *

**A/N: Big thanks to Project Team Beta for the beta work and encouraging words. To Sobriquett, for her distinctly British perspective. To the BBs at WA Rehab, for making me laugh and feel like writing a lemon is just normal behaviour. And to Sharon Penman, who uses 'mayhap' so much, it's almost part of my vernacular. Her historical romances were the inspiration for this.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks again to cosmo9 for supporting the Fandom Gives Back and for sharing this with you all. Also to Sobriquett for the beta work and for geeking out with me over medieval history ;)**

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Now, Calawah." Charles spoke in a gruff, forceful manner. He was still angry with himself for the role he played in the deflowering of his daughter and was ready to take it out on Edward.

"Yes, my lord," Edward mumbled into his chest.

"As you have taken my daughter's virginity, I must now insist that you take her as your wife," Charles said firmly as he paced the length of the room. "I must also insist that the ceremony take place as soon as possible, as I do not wish for Isabella to birth a child conceived out of wedlock."

Edward looked up at Charles after those words. _He would want me to lie?_ If it were anyone else standing above him, he would have objected wholeheartedly. Yes, the child was conceived in sin, but it would be an even greater sin to spread falsehoods about the conception, surely? One look at Charles though and he realised he had no grounds for complaint. He owed this man his daughter's maidenhead—something impossible to replace. As penance, he would have to do as Charles wished.

"Yes, my lord," he repeated as his gaze returned to the grained wooden table he sat at.

Charles was becoming frustrated with the lad. He'd showed promise earlier, strong enough to approach a lord of the realm and ask for the return of his birthright, but now he was painfully weak. Not once had he tried to stand up to Charles or alter his requests. If the lad was currently showing his true mettle, then he would be a poor match for his Isabella.

"I assume you will need to return to France?"

Edward glanced up again, relieved that Charles seemed to be willing to allow him that. "By your leave, my lord."

The constant repetition was driving Charles insane. "Good heavens, boy! Do you not speak any other words?"

Edward panicked but could not refuse. "I will need to return to France. My... possessions are all there." He looked even more contrite. "And I would like the opportunity to explain myself to my mother before she hears from anyone else about... what I have done."

The faintest hint of a smile gleamed Charles' expression. He'd been correct in his first impression that Elizabeth had raised the boy well. Not many young men would be willing to face maternal wrath over an incident like this; yet, the boy preferred to. It was a promising virtue, Charles decided.

"That is acceptable. You may leave on the morrow for France, but I shall expect your return before the autumn." Charles decided it was not too long a delay that people would question the parentage of any babe, if one were conceived. He continued, "In your absence, I will have my wife organise the wedding festivities, and I shall cover the expense of the wedding. Isabella's dowry will be the Forks Earldom. Is that clear?"

Edward nodded emphatically, relieved that Charles was generous with his demands. He would be able to return to France, explain his wrongdoings, and return with his family for their new life. "Thank you, my lord." He paused then, wondering if there were more that needed to be said before he could escape from Charles' chambers. Edward was terrified he would say or do the wrong thing, causing Charles to change his mind.

Charles watched how the boy squirmed in his seat, obviously eager to flee, and again felt faintly disappointed in his future son-in-law. Although it was customary for them to share a drink and toast the betrothal, he doubted that would be an enjoyable exercise. "You may leave when you wish, young Calawah. Just be certain to return before the autumn."

Edward stood quickly and almost smiled with his relief. He bowed deeply, trying to convey his respect for the Earl, then rose whilst speaking. "Farewell, my lord."

Charles couldn't stifle his amusement at the flushed face of the lad. He laughed, a deep rumbling bellow, at which the boy looked stricken, and that made Charles laugh even harder. He slapped Edward on the back. "Be gone, Calawah. Fare thee well."

Edward did not go far that night. He'd ridden hard to reach Charles and beseech him for the earldom. His body was riddled with fatigue from the ride, the adrenaline, and, he remembered with shame, his first bedding. After leaving the castle grounds, he rode only to find a suitable resting place. It was a light night, the full moon easily guiding his path, but it also showed that there were few hours remaining until sun up. He pulled off the road once he spied a clearing in the forest and headed towards it. Edward had no riches, and apart from his horse, nothing worth stealing, so he was content with sleeping outdoors. After he unsaddled and tethered his horse, he wrapped himself in his cloak and went to sleep, thankful for warmth in the air.

The following day, he continued his journey to France.

* * *

Isabella awoke to the familiar sounds of the castle, noting how nothing else seemed to be different today. _Funny_, she thought to herself, for she almost expected things to be different now that she was a woman. She wriggled her body, certain that she could still feel how she changed, even though most of the evidence had been washed away. She'd bathed for a long time last night in an attempt to soothe her tenderness, and her ladies had brought her draughts afterward. She wasn't certain if they were to promote fertility, or prevent it; either way, she didn't mind. As she wriggled again, she imagined she could feel a babe growing in her already and it made her smile.

"Bella, you are awake!" The voice of her too cheerful lady-in-waiting, Angela, fractured her thoughts. Bella rolled onto her side and watched her approach. "How do you feel this morning?"

"Still sore," Bella admitted, "but better. I'm hungry though."

Angela nodded her head adamantly, her bright smile and eager eyes only too happy to help. "I shall fetch you something." Overnight, Bella had become Angela's role model for the simple act of losing her virginity. Bella didn't mind, and had been happy to regale Angela with a detailed—though slightly embellished—description of her bedding. But now she worried that she had gained yet another puppy dog with which she would have to play.

Bella again stretched out in her large, comfortable bed and daydreamed of her life ahead. She would be Lady Calawah, Countess of Forks. It thrilled her that the title was well above those of her sisters, and she was the youngest! Of course, she was still a realist, and knew that there would be very little wealth to go with the title. But nevertheless, it would garner her respect.

Not to mention a handsome husband.

Her sisters had both been married to old greying men, heavy with years and wealth, but lacking in charm. Bella had dreaded reaching the same fate; hence her reluctance to be married at all. But Edward... well, she could see there would be several pleasures involved in being his consort.

The castle butter maid, Sue Clearwater, had always been very boisterous about the possible exploits between man and woman. For a time, Bella had found her talk fascinating, and had lingered outside the buttery, eavesdropping on her salacious chatter. According to Sue, lovemaking was a licentious pastime, though one to be savoured and enjoyed on a daily basis. She took great pleasure in being the mistress of several men, and loved regaling whoever would listen with talk of her favourite positions. Bella had been enticed by the possibility that one day, she would find bedding enjoyable, and had diligently committed everything she'd overheard to memory.

She was glad she'd had the foresight to do that. For now, Bella wanted to try them with Edward.

She wondered how he was feeling this morning. Had he slept well? Was he thinking of her? Was he eager to bed her again? She decided on wearing her royal blue dress today in the hope of inciting his lust.

A heavy thud on her door broke her train of thought and she sat up straight in bed, expecting Angela to have returned with something to break her fast. Instead of a small, dark girl rushing into her room though, her tall, gruff father appeared. She stood up from the bed, checking to ensure her bedclothes concealed her from the male intruders.

"Good morning, Isabella," Charles announced as he strode purposely into her chamber. He quickly assessed his daughter's countenance and was relieved she did not appear upset. "I wanted to tell you that the young Calawah and I havereached an accord. He will marry you upon his return from France, at which time I will relinquish control of the Forks earldom unto him." Charles smiled at his daughter, pleased that he was able to give her the news himself. But his smile soon disappeared. He'd expected her to look joyous; instead he was met with a blank expression, almost as though she hadn't heard him correctly.

"When he returns from France? He is not here?" she asked.

As her normally rosy cheeks blanched and gave way to a pallid tone, he recognised his error. His daughter had been expecting her young lordling to still be on castle grounds. Mentally he chastised himself for not thinking of that sooner.

"He will return. Of that I am certain."

"But..." Isabella fumbled for words to express her frustration that she wouldn't see her young Edward for weeks. Possibly months! Then a shocking thought occurred to her.

"What if I am with child?" she screeched, suddenly terrified of the thought.

"I had your ladies bring you the draught last night. If you drank that, there should be no reason to worry." Charles kept his personal knowledge of how fallible those draughts were to himself, not wanting her to be anxious.

Isabella slumped onto her bed at his words, noticeably stricken, and Charles again berated himself. He often forgot just how young his Isabella was. For all her intelligence and daring, she was still just a lass, one who had just had her very first bedding and had seemingly been abandoned by the boy.

"We can always demand he come back sooner," he assured her. "If there is a babe then I will not hesitate."

She gave the tiniest grimace as she worried her bottom lip. Knowing that any further show of sadness would result in her father's continued presence, she tried to look pleased. After a moment, she raised her eyes to Charles. "Thank you, Father."

Content that she was pacified, he hastily made his departure. The lass needed comfort and wisdom that he was unable to giveto her. As he pondered the best woman in the household who could give her advice, he found himself quickly discarding the choices. Her mother was far too modest, had never been capable of educating their fiery youngest daughter. All the other ladies were either too old or too virginal. Sue Clearwater sprung to mind and for a moment, he seriously considered her the wisest choice. Thankfully, he came to his senses, realising that sending one of his mistresses to speak with his daughter was probably a bad idea—especially one with a penchant for sexual exploration and a mouth worthy of a bawdy house.

He sighed heavily, weighed down by his inability to help his favourite daughter. As soon as the thought occurred though, he realised he had solved his own problem.

"Seth!" he called unceremoniously. "I need you to send for my daughter."

"Yes, my lord," the squire answered before turning and heading back towards Isabella's chambers.

Charles rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Not that daughter, you half-wit! Alice!"

* * *

Angela returned to Isabella's room later, only to find her far dourer than when she'd left.

"Isabella?" she questioned as she approached the slumbering figure. "What's wrong?"

"He's not here," Bella lamented. "My father sent him back to France." She sighed and rolled over on her side to stare at Angela with troubled eyes. "What if he doesn't return?"

Bella was expressing her deepest worry now. She had ensnared Edward, but her father had let him get away. Bella had taken Edward's worth in the short time she had spent with him—knew that he was one familiar with flexing his morals. Yes, he had lain with her, but only because he thought she was of lower birth. And from his performance, she was certain it was not an act that he partook in frequently.

"What if he decides that he wants someone more... innocent?" she appealed to Angela.

Angela felt overwhelming concern for her lady. Isabella had always carried such spark, never afraid of any challenge, impervious to the opinions and thoughts of those around her. And yet, now she lay awash in fear that her new beau would discard her.

"Impossible," she assured her lady. "No man could ever stay away from you." She pulled the blanket up around Isabella's prostrate figure and tucked it in around her chin. "I've heard a spinning mind can be a consequence of love-making. You rest yourself, my lady, and when you awaken, you'll see everything is right in this world."

* * *

Edward continued his journey to the coastline at the same damning pace he'd used when he had first arrived. He stopped rarely, mostly only to change horses, for he wished for nothing more at that time then to leave the God forsaken English land and return to his mother.

The Channel crossing was frightening, passing through violent gales and rough seas. Edward felt as though he was going to die, that this was his punishment for his grievous sin. As he nursed his seasickness and wallowed below deck, he began to question his promise to Charles.

He wasn't sure he wanted to marry Isabella.

Somehow, the cog made the crossing in one piece and Edward survived. Upon setting foot on dry land, he swore he would never leave its solid surety for wavering deep waters ever again.

After another day of far more comfortable riding, he finally approached the family manor—_his _manor—feeling no small amount of trepidation. He was not looking forward to admitting to his mother what he had done. But more than that, he had ruined his family's chances at regaining their lives—their power and wealth. He had failed them.

He took his time stabling his horse, knowing that he would soon be discovered and hoping that would make his entrance less awkward. Sure enough, his youngest brother, Emmett, approached.

"Edward!" he shouted as he raced towards him. "You're back so soon! What happened? Did you not see the Earl?"

Secretly, Edward was pleased it wasn't Jasper he was facing. Emmett was bound for the church, so he had no need of the family manor. Jasper on the other hand... he was to inherit their meagre French lands upon Edward's successful claim of their English title, so he was far more interested in how Edward fared whilst in England.

"No, I did see him," he assured Emmett. "I must speak with our mother first." Emmett bristled, obviously annoyed at being excluded from adults' affairs. In reparation, Edward greeted him by slapping him on the back in a familial way. "I'll come find you as soon as I'm finished and tell you all about the crossing. They almost lost three men!" Emmett noticeably lightened at the possibility of hearing the tale and he eagerly led his brother into their home.

* * *

Edward's mother was a lady who understood the important things in life. Above all else, she placed love; love of her husband, love of her children, love of her God. She had, at a young age, followed her heart by marrying Edward of Calawah, breaking her plight troth with a more powerful, though lesser man. As a consequence, they had lost almost everything in their lives, but they still had their love.

Only a short month ago, her husband left his worldly body behind and transcended to the heavens where she could no longer hold him near. She was trying to be strong, trying desperately to hold onto her love, but it was a constant struggle, especially after her eldest son departed.

When she heard Emmett's loud voice announcing her son's return, she felt her waning heart rejoice. Edward most closely resembled her late husband, and while initially gazing at him had been a painful reminder of what she had lost, she now knew that not seeing him was far worse.

She stood from her chair close to the hearth, and prepared to welcome more of her love home.

* * *

Edward eyed his mother warily. She'd been so happy to see him return, enveloping him in a hug so tight, he could not draw breath. Seeing how delicate she'd become in his absence, he was hesitant to explain his hasty return. But, being his mother, she had sensed his troubles, and coaxed almost the entire account from him. Of course, he'd omitted certain details, but his mother was now aware that he had both lost his virginity and deflowered a nobleman's daughter.

He was awaiting her judgement.

"I'm not angry with you," she admitted. Edward knew better than to get his hopes up. "What you did was irresponsible, and you're lucky that the Earl did not have you charged." At this she shot him a look only a mother can effect. "But it helps us not to dwell on mistakes, only on how we can rectify them. Tell me, what of the girl?"

Edward shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He'd thought of Isabella frequently during his journey. He thought of her questionable morals and her frightening father. He wondered about her character, and whether she could possibly be a suitable wife. And he dreamed of her body, her silky hair and the joyous place between her thighs.

He shook his head, ashamed that he'd had those thoughts in front of his mother. When he raised his eyes to meet hers, her expression seemed to indicate she knew.

"She is... pleasant to look at. But... what kind of lady must she be to bed a man she'd just met! When I used to picture my future wife, high morals were always part of her character. I imagined someone loving and caring, yet disciplined. Like you."

Elizabeth smiled soothingly at her son. "Edward, you do recall how it came about that I wed your father?"

She could pinpoint the exact moment when he registered her words. Edward's jaw dropped slightly and he ceased to move—ceased to breath.

"No one person is perfect." Again she smiled, although more encouragingly this time, and patted him on his leg before standing to leave. "Perhaps you should write to your Isabella. You may find more to like about her if you get to know her first." With that said, she quietly left her son to think on what he would do.

* * *

Edward unfurled the parchment and dipped his nib to begin writing, immediately finding himself at a loss of how to start. He decided to revert to formal protocol, knowing no other way to communicate anyway.

_Edward, by the grace of God, Lord of Calawah, to the youthful Isabella, daughter of the renowned Charles Swan, the Earl of Forks and Clallam, greetings and affection._

He knew it was far removed from the words of poets, but he felt less foolish writing in this manner, so he continued.

_You should know that I am of good health, having successfully returned to France. My mother and brothers I have found to also be well._

_I wish to farewell you properly, not having done so before I left. I thank thee for your hospitality and welcome into your household._

He hoped she would not take that the wrong way.

_I sincerely desire that you are in good health, and hope that you will respond with your assurances._

_Fare well._

He pondered over how he could improve upon his message, but eventually decided to trust in formality. He rolled the parchment and sealed it, before venturing off to find a courier in town.

* * *

"My lady, my lady!" Angela squealed as she followed the courier into the hall. "A messenger!"

"Calm down, Angela," Bella admonished. She had been right in her assessment that she had gained a new puppy. Angela rarely left her side anymore, and it was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"I bet you three silk ties it's from your young lord." Angela continued to beam at her with enthusiasm.

Bella was less certain. "Perhaps," she agreed so as not to be drawn into a public discussion. She accepted the parchment and exited the hall for the privacy of her chamber, Angela tagging along.

Once inside and away from prying eyes, Bella broke the seal and unrolled the correspondence.

"It is from him!" she exclaimed in surprise.

"I told you it would be, my lady. You see, he does care for you."

Bella quickly scanned the contents, searching for any indication that he did, in fact, care.

"This is no letter of love!" She thrust it aside with contempt.

Angela hastened to retrieve it from the floor and read the letter herself. "It is polite. And it does show he has thought of you."

"He doesn't even mention returning to England." Bella was huffing now, annoyed at having momentarily let herself enjoy the notion he had written to her.

Angela again checked the letter, noting he did fail to mention his intentions. "Well then, you will just have to ask him yourself." She walked over to the small writing table, picking up Bella's quill and holding it out for her.

With not a small amount of pride, Angela saw the spark return to Bella's eyes.

* * *

"I have a message for the Lord Calawah." A young courier stood wearily at the entrance to the manor. Edward approached him and accepted the parchment, having no clue as to what it contained.

He carried the message to his chambers and opened it, absently noting the untidy scrawl. Then he read:

_To Edward, by the grace of God, Lord of Calawah and soon to be Earl of Forks, from his betrothed, the favoured Isabella, daughter of the renowned Charles Swan, Earl of Clallam, greetings and sincere affection._

_Your letter did find me in very good health, though suffering from a rare case of solitude. You see, I had found myself in possession of a very companionable young man, but he has since vanished and I have no idea of when he is to return._

_You are correct to admit you did not fare us well properly, and we feel slighted by this oversight. But, you should know that you may make amends by enlightening your betrothed of all of your intentions._

_Perhaps I can be of assistance by admitting to some of my own. I intend to marry my betrothed, by the grace of God. I also intend to be a very, very good wife. Especially when it comes to those activities my lord did see us engage in._

_I sincerely hope you are in good health, and eagerly await your response. _

_Fare well._

Edward carefully put down the letter, stunned by the sheer audacity of its content. She was brazen, bordering on inappropriate the entire way through, and yet.... He reread her prose, pondering some words again. _"I also intend to be a very, very good wife." _He shifted slightly, aware he was getting excited by her words alone.

His mother was right; he had found more to like in her correspondence. But, did he not also find further evidence of her impropriety? He read the letter once more, torn between feeling horrified and aroused. He knew that responding would likely encourage her. He knew that was probably not a good idea. And even knowing those things, he still found fresh parchment and prepared to write her a response.

For despite his better judgement, he was fascinated.

* * *

**A/N: Every chapter is loosely based around a prompt from cosmo9. This one was the letters and the idea of falling in love over a long distance, so she gets credit for that. **


	3. Readers Are Awesome!

**A/N: Thank you to the readers!!!!!! I'm updating this as part of ****the Fic Bridge's Reader Appreciation Day. Without readers, writing would be pretty darn unrewarding, so thank you for all the time you spend looking over my words and leaving your thoughts. I hope your inbox's are overflowing today.**

**Thanks again to cosmo9 for supporting the Fandom Gives Back and for sharing this with you all. And thanks to mopstyle for the beta. She's awesome.**

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Edward shifted uncomfortably on the pallet he was using for a bed, worrying himself about the possible outcomes of the next day. He was eager to see Isabella—too eager. Every night over that last few months he had wanted to see her. He had lain in bed, thinking over the content of her letters, both scared and amazed that he was going to be married to such a woman.

And marry her he was! His initial hesitance had quickly dispersed after they exchanged correspondence. His misgivings about her character were fast replaced by thoughts of how she genuinely seemed to want him for a husband. She wrote of missing his lips and the feel of him on top of her, and of how she couldn't wait until they were married so that they could lay together as husband and wife. Edward's responses were still formal and disciplined, but she seemed to take every reply as encouragement, for her letters were increasingly evocative.

Thinking about her words was only serving to increase his discomfort. He shifted again, knowing that this particular ache was something he could remedy. Jasper's snores from the pallet across the room indicated he was sound asleep. Although sorely tempted, Edward still couldn't bring himself to... pleasure himself. Instead, he rolled over and continued his unsatisfied pondering.

He could tell from the tone of Isabella's letters that she was impatient for him to return to her bed. But Edward had sworn to himself that he would not—could not—disrespect her again by laying with her whilst they were unwed. He had prayed for forgiveness, and as part of his quest for absolution, had sworn he would show restraint and not bed another woman unless it was sanctified by marriage. This was why he had distanced himself from his betrothed; not for lack of want and need, but to help him keep his oath. He was very uncertain that he could resist her if they were in the same room.

This was the other reason for Edward's sleeplessness. In the morn, he was to visit the castle and meet with Charles. He would be within the same walls as the object of his desire, and then, that night, he was to stay there too! He had to stand firm against seeking her out, tearing her clothes off and burying himself between her thighs...

He groaned at his stupidity for thinking about such things again. Rolling over, he forced his mind to abandon thought and eventually succumbed to a wholly unfulfilled sleep.

* * *

"Bella, don't move! You're making this very difficult for me," Alice chastised.

Bella withheld the urge to scoff out loud. All of these preparations were completely unnecessary; Edward _had _to marry her. It wasn't like he would all of a sudden back out of the arrangement he had struck with her father. That would mean the loss of his earldom, not to mention a significant financial penalty for relieving Bella of her maidenhead. No, there was no way he would renege now.

Alice drew the brush down Bella's long locks, gently pulling it through any tangles she encountered. She was highly envious of her little sister today. Not only was she about to be married to an earl, he was also young and handsome. Alice had, like so many young women before her, been married for political gain. Her husband was kind to her, which was more than many wives could boast, but he was also old—over thirty years her senior. Aro still had a speckling of black through his hair, but the majority of it was silver. At his age, he lacked the energy to properly entertain his young wife. She sighed as she thought of the stamina that her little sister's young earl no doubt possessed.

"Have you seen him yet this morn?" Bella queried. Edward had returned to France to fetch his mother and bring her home to her family's lands. Elizabeth was prudently choosing to not attend the wedding ceremony, and most of the household was relieved at that news. Though Charles had been married for over twenty years, he had never practiced fidelity. Bella doubted her father would even have the restraint to wait until after the revelries before attempting to bed her new mother-in-law.

Bella had received her latest letter from Edward just a week prior, and in it he had confirmed that he was once again on English soil. Despite his presence, she had not seen him since then. It was customary for a fiancé to visit his betrothed, so his absence was niggling at Bella. It was now the day before the wedding. By custom, they would not be allowed to see each other, and Bella was growing impatient with his prolonged absence.

Alice got the same dazed look in her eyes that she always got when talking about Edward. "I did see him in the bailey earlier." She smirked at the memory. "He looks glorious today, Bella, though still uncomfortable in court wear. I hear his younger brother made the crossing, too?"

"Yes, he did," Bella replied absently, still caught up in images of Edward regaled in finery. She knew it was necessary while he was at the castle, but she would be quite content if his normal attire were the same as when she met him. Pearls and ribbons belonged on children, ladies, and effeminate males, not Edward.

"I wonder if he shares his older brother's good looks. I wonder how old he is." Alice, distracted by her musings, dragged the brush through and snared it on Bella's ear.

"Ouch!" Bella exclaimed. "Alice, if you are to subject me to this, treat me kindly at least! The boy is sixteen—too young for you. And do not forget your Aro!"

Alice huffed at being admonished by her younger sibling. Her elderly husband had not made the journey with her; he was uninterested in being present for the marriage between her sister and an impoverished earl.

"Hush, Bella. I only wish to look. I do not have the benefit of a young, handsome lord, and occasionally must rely on my imagination when I am with my husband. You, of course, will most likely not suffer from that." She stepped away and admired the shine in Bella's hair and the small plaits that would keep it fixed under her veil. "Perfect."

Bella glanced at the small mirror of polished bronze but her thoughts were elsewhere. "Alice, is Aro a good lover?"

"Good enough," Alice snipped, but after a quick glance to ensure their privacy she leaned in closer. "He is better than most," she whispered conspiratorially. "I've heard that some men care not at all for the pleasure of a woman. Aro does seek to make things... enjoyable for both of us. But he is old. When we were first married, he bed me daily, hoping our marriage would be as bountiful in babes as his first had been. After it was clear that I would not conceive, he ceased joining me nightly. As of late, I am surprised to see him in my chambers after dark." She sighed, a brief look of remorse crossing her features. "But this is why you should be so happy. Your husband is young and virile, and ripe for instructing! We already know he can perform, and at his age, you can be certain he will want to—frequently!"

Bella brightened at her sister's words. Her correspondence with Edward over the last few months had become more and more suggestive, and she was eager to again share his bed. It was something she had been hoping they would already have done by now, which is why she was concerned by his absence. Didn't he also wish to bed her? Her shoulders slumped.

"What is wrong now?"

"Well, you say that he will want to, but if that is the case, why has he not visited my chambers?"

"Oh, Bella, do not take his absence as any indication of his desire. Men act silly when it comes to women. Your lordling is a timid lad. He probably has some notion of waiting for the wedding night. Do not distress yourself by imagining otherwise. Tomorrow night, he will be yours." She smiled knowingly at Bella before gathering up the brushes and returning them to the dresser.

Bella smiled back, grateful that the wedding was soon. Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she would have to wait that long.

* * *

Charles waited in his chambers for his future son-in-law to appear. He was in an excellent mood lately; his finances were looking better, his was in very good health, and Miss Clearwater had recently introduced him to a rather enjoyable sexual position. Yes, life was grand, even if he was about to relinquish a title.

"The Lord of Calawah," one of his squires announced before moving aside and letting a harried looking young man come forth.

Edward appeared as though he had not slept, all anxious and pale. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were stern, but they were belied by his furrowed brow and lacklustre posture.

"Are you ill, Son?" he asked, offering the familial title as an invitation for him to be honest.

Edward looked even more worried before responding. "Not ill, my lord, I slept poorly last night."

Charles patted him on the back and led him to a chair whilst trying to lighten the mood. "Well, we must ensure you are better rested tonight! You need to be in top shape for tomorrow's festivities." He laughed at his own joke, a loud guffaw. "I'll have a lass sent to you later. Nothing helps a man sleep more than the exertion of pleasurable bedding." He winked.

Edward visibly winced. The lord's words were too close to revealing his true dilemma. "Please don't," he begged. "I could never—not with Isabella under the same roof..."

Charles observed the young man and was impressed by his morals, even if he was not able to understand them. The boy was honourable, but he was also struggling. Charles decided to be charitable. "You are free to visit Isabella. There is not a man in the castle that would not look the other way. You've already lain together, and you will be married on the morrow." He turned then to retrieve his goblet, pleased that he was able to offer his daughter with such worthy intentions.

This time, Edward blanched. He was trying so hard to not rush to her room as it were, and now her father was offering her on a plate! "My Lord, please do not think me ungrateful, but I wish to wait until we are wed. It's the least I can do after I... after the last time."

Again, Charles found himself unwillingly impressed by the lad's insanity. "As you wish," he acquiesced. "But do let me send a sleeping draught to your room. If you have been holding out this long, you really will need you strength for tomorrow's bedding." He sipped deeply at his wine, noting with amusement how Calawah relaxed at the suggestion. Charles knew that despite Edward being the man, and years older than Isabella, he was definitely the meeker of the two.

It was like sending a lamb to the slaughter.

* * *

Isabella tossed again in her very large bed, amazed that Edward had not yet appeared. She had been very clear in her letters that she was impatient for his company, even going so far as to say she missed the feel of his body! And yet, he still hadn't come to her...

The ache she felt between her legs had only increased throughout the day. She knew he was here, and his proximity was driving her mad. With a huff, she sat up in bed and wondered how shocked he would be if she were to appear in his chamber.

She decided to find out.

Slowly, so as not to wake Angela, Bella climbed out of bed and eased open the heavy door. After closing it carefully, she listened for any movement that would indicate other people about. Hearing nothing, she quickly made her way towards Edward's chamber.

Bella didn't encounter anyone as she quietly sped through the passageways and within minutes, she was standing in front of the doorway to where the tonic for her lust now slept. For a moment, she worried about what his reaction would be. But then she pushed that aside, deciding she would prefer to learn of her betrothed's reservations sooner rather than after they were married. With that decided, she put her weight into the door and pushed it open, having far less regard for noise than she'd had in her own room.

It was darker in Edward's chamber, a rug having been strung over the window so it kept the moonlight out. She closed the door behind her and waited for her eyes to adjust.

Eventually she was able to make his figure out in the bed. He was fast asleep, so she approached him tentatively, not wanting to awake him with any sudden movement. As she moved closer to the bed, she couldn't help but think he looked angelic in rest. His skin was smooth over his features, no trace of a wrinkle or worry line. His mouth was the tiniest bit open, and as she leaned her face closer, she could feel his breaths disturbing the air near her face. It made her smile.

She wanted to touch him—wanted to wake him up with kisses and fondling. But seeing him like this, so innocent in sleep, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she gently lowered herself onto the bed next to him and watched.

With every breath he took, Bella's heart grew fonder. He was kind, patient, respectful, and although she had always been fond of his looks, she now valued his other attributes equally. She wondered if she could possibly be in love with her staid and proper fiancé.

All her life, she had avoided thinking of marriage, knowing only that she did not want it for herself. But now, she wanted it more than anything. She wanted to be Edward of Calawah's wife, not for a title, or for prestige, but because he was a good and worthy man.

When she left his chamber a short while later, she was even more impatient for the wedding.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter came from a request to see Bella watching Edward sleep for a change. I don't think it's creepy at all ;)**

**Once chapter to go. Thanks again cosmo9 for sharing! And thank you all for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: The last chapter! Thank you to everyone for all your support with this story. It has been fun!**

**Thanks again to cosmo9 for supporting the Fandom Gives Back and for sharing this with you all. And thanks to revrag for the beta work :)**

**Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight.**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"I need my brooch, Alice! Where is my emerald brooch?"

"Calm down. It's right here." Alice pinned the delicate arrangement of precious stones to the front of Bella's bodice. She looked beautiful, all dark green and gold in her dress and surcoat, and Alice couldn't wait to see her beside Edward today. They were certainly going to make a handsome couple.

"Am I ready?" Bella asked anxiously. She was far more nervous than Alice had been on her own wedding day. In fact, it was the most panicky Alice had ever seen Bella.

"Not quite. There is just one more thing." Alice made her way over to her small travelling chest, musing along the way, "You really don't need to be this nervous, Bella. Edward is here, we know he has every intention of marrying you." She found what she was looking for and carried it back.

"I'm not nervous about the wedding," Bella admitted and sighed loudly. "I want him to like me, Alice. I don't want to be a disappointment to him."

Alice grinned. She'd seen Edward around the castle the day prior and she could see the how highly strung he was. "He is a young man. I don't think it would be possible for you to disappoint him. Now, hold out your leg."

Bella did as she was bade and Alice lifted her skirts to tie a delicate lace garter at the top of her silk stocking, then repeated the action on her other leg. "Of course," she added, smirking at Bella conspiratorially. "These should help matters."

Bella glanced down at her legs, amazed by the generosity of Alice. The garters were beautiful, much nicer than any she had ever seen, and threaded through with strips gold that matched her dress. She supposed that Edward would like them—very much.

"Alice, did you make these?" she asked.

"Consider it my gift to you," she replied, placing a kiss for good luck on Bella's cheek. "Now come, it is time to go."

Bella stood carefully, not wanting to mess her appearance, and followed Alice down to the courtyard.

* * *

Edward was pasty white and sweating under the warm sun in his court wear as he waited for his bride.

"You look awful, Edward," his brother Jasper observed. "You could try to appear happy, at least." Jasper shifted, also uncomfortable in the excessive clothing.

Edward grimaced. He didn't want Isabella to think him unhappy, because he wasn't. He was nervous, and hot, and the sweat that was trailing down his brow was irritating, but he wasn't unhappy. What he really felt was impatience.

Jasper couldn't recognise that though. He had the brash nature of a young single man, unable to appreciate the urge that some men felt to marry. He was mistaking Edward's behaviour for one being wed against his will, the only form of union in his young and presumptuous mind.

Many Clallam townspeople had turned out for the spectacle of a noble marriage, along with several neighbouring lords. Charles and the bishop were sequested inside the church, awaiting the arrival of Isabella and escaping the heat. The crowd of onlookers, whilst not as intimidating as Charles, were still serving to make Edward more uncomfortable. He was certain he could see heat radiating out from the large circle of witnesses.

_"__Lord__, is there no breeze to spare,"_ he thought wishfully to himself. He wished for anything to help relieve his distress and aide his countenance.

"I believe that will be your lady now," Jasper announced, noting that the onlookers were all moving, turning to stare in the direction of the main hall. Edward could see nothing beyond their sea of heads and so prepared to wait patiently, ignoring the pointed glances he was receiving from his brother.

Whether it was their combined movements of the crowd, or that God really did hear his prayer, the wind picked up and gushed around Edward, cooling him and lifting his mood. The breeze continued to blow steadily, and the people began to clear a path, separating out while sounds of approval and awe resonated amongst them.

Then Edward saw her.

She was walking with her sister who Edward had met briefly the day before, their arms linked and swinging as they made their way through the crowd. Isabella's mother, Renee, trailed behind them, and Edward could see straight away that Isabella shared little in common with her. She was Charles' daughter—that was certain. He returned his attention to his beauty.

The same breeze that had been sweeping around him made her look like an angel in flight. Her dress billowed out behind her, pulling it taut along her figure and reminding Edward of the glory that lay beneath. Her veil trailed out on the breeze, gently whipping around in the air, and Edward caught glimpses of her dark auburn hair, stirring his already frustrated desire.

She smiled at him, a sweet smile so befitting of an angel, and his heart swelled. He had no remaining doubt that he wanted her for his wife. Her beauty, her strong will, her devilish words—he wanted it all.

Charles had heard the murmurings and exited the church with the bishop in time to see his daughters and wife arriving. Isabella looked radiant, something he expected to see. What he didn't expect though was for the lad to be salivating at the sight of her. It was discomforting to Charles, the thought that he was giving the unseasoned boy a gift that he obviously wanted. He wasn't used to granting wishes, and the act was leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. But then he saw that the boy's obvious enthusiasm was reflected in his daughter's smile and he reined in his regrets. She would be happy with this marriage, and he owed that to her.

With a resigned sigh, he prepared to give his consent to the union.

The Bishop eyed the approaching bride with carefully veiled distaste. She was wanton, of that he was certain. For years there had been rumours of her behaviour, of how she would beguile young men into compromising positions, have her way them and then rush off to receive the ever present adoration of her father. She was unfettered and likely to be a painful addition to this lad's life. For that reason, the bishop was opposed to this union at heart, but he was also too weak to voice his opinion and risk the wrath of Charles. Instead, he was praying for the young lad's soul, praying that she did not corrupt him with her devilish ways.

The heat bore down on him—a sign in his mind of the hell he was unleashing—while he watched the girl cover the last few steps. Upon reaching them, she smiled dazzlingly at her betrothed, then her father, and even the bishop had to admit she was a stunning sight.

Bella could taste victory—that's how close she was to it. Edward looked happy to see her, delighted even. She finally felt that everything was going to be okay, that despite his lack of contact, he _did_ want her as his wife. His eyes were almost painful to look at, given how intensely they were conveying his emotions. Yes, he definitely wanted her. And she wanted him.

When she was finally next to him, she let out a relieved breath, then tore her eyes away from the stunning green of her betrothed to entreat the Bishop to begin.

And with some reluctance, he began.

* * *

The wedding festivities were to run all afternoon and well into the evening. Bella's mother had planned an extravagant line-up of entertainment: jugglers, minstrels, and even a group of travelling bards. Copious amounts of ale and wine were served as befitted the event, and delicious food was painstakingly prepared and served to the masses of guests and townsfolk that were in attendance. Dishes of venison, pheasant, roast suckling pig and eels were served. The lord's table was set with gilded goblets and even more delectable meals—mostly Charles' favourites.

Edward was seated in between Charles and Isabella, a show of the union they were forming with this marriage. He was very aware of being the centre of attention, and most uncomfortable because of it. More people than he had ever seen before were seated in rows spanning the entire grand hall. They ate heartily, drank thirstily, and talked and talked and talked. Edward could hear their constant chatter and it sounded to him like impending doom—a deep unrelenting rumble. The heat was still present, adding to his discomfort, and if not for the presence of the young beauty beside him—his _wife_—he would have fled long ago.

Isabella went out of her way to engage her new husband in loving glances. He was startled, she was sure, and looked like a caged falcon, frantic and desperate to fly. She calmed him with soft smiles and encouraged him to drink the rich Bordeaux, knowing it would go some way to easing his anxieties. It was strange to her, that he should be so unused to the life of a noble, and yet he was about to become one. But she also found it refreshing, adding to his innocent charm. As she watched him take another deep drink from the goblet she proffered, it dawned on her that she really didn't want him to be in his cups later that eve. She decided perhaps conversation would be better.

"My dear husband, are you happy?" she asked quietly, allowing him the opportunity to alleviate his worries verbally.

He looked at her, part relieved, but still very much so scared. "There are just so many people. I'm afraid I find it a little overwhelming," he admitted.

Bella looked out over the sea of faces, some familiar, most not, and viewed the scene through her husband's eyes. It was loud, crowded, and hot. "For the townsfolk, it is a rare event that they get to dine at their lord's residence. They are excited, for certes, but joyful, too. Do you see their cheeks are rosy with mirth, and their smiles wide with sated appetites? Perhaps if you focus instead on the goodwill coming from these people, then you will feel more relaxed."

Edward looked at his wife with obvious surprise. It was the most he had ever heard her speak, and he was immensely proud with what he heard. What a beguiling creature he had married: beautiful, forthcoming, salacious, and intelligent. "I think you may be right," he agreed with her, and didn't miss how she shone with his response. With his new found optimism, he resumed his meal, though now, instead of watching the guests, he eyed his wife. The effect was not entirely soothing, but it did give him something to preoccupy his mind with whilst the festivities ran their course.

* * *

After several hours of eating, drinking, and general carousing, the guests began their usual demand for the bedding revelries to begin. Edward and Bella found themselves being pulled along in a wave of raucous cheers, at least a quarter of the guests milling around and following them up the stairwell. Edward was discomforted, but he was so close to being able to make love to his wife that it barely bothered him. If anything, he was worried the crowd would simply be a hindrance—something he didn't need right then. Isabella was rushed up before him, a dove amidst a flock of clucking fowl. She threw one last gleeful look over her shoulder at him, and her obvious excitement took his breath away.

The men steered Edward into Charles' chamber, where they began to pass around more wine for toasting. The jokes began pouring out almost as fast as the liquor—quips of bedroom humour that made Edward blush and swallow nervously.

A lord he didn't know was boisterously proclaiming, "The lad should indeed be a stallion in the bed chamber; he's young, has too much energy, and will likely mount the lass ere she sees him coming."

His observation was met with laughter, making Edward even more uncomfortable. He hadn't given much thought to how he would go about bedding Isabella again. The last time, well, she had initiated relations between them. This time... perhaps he should have considered this prior to consuming several goblets of wine.

"Now, now, Lord William," came the unexpected voice of Charles. "Our young Calawah has shown himself to possess great restraint, not to mention commendable ambition. Do you think a stallion doth possess those qualities?"

Edward sent a relieved look to his father-in-law, thankful for the interjection.

"You're right, Charles." the man continued, oblivious to Charles' attempt to diffuse the situation. "Perhaps the lad be a gelding!"

Another wave of raucous laughter swept over Edward and he blanched. He did not want to have to defend his manliness to a lord who was far too drunk to be on the receiving end of rationale. And he did not want Charles to have to speak for him again. He eyed the lord, taking in his round gut and red nose, and realised the man was probably not much of a stallion himself. The thought calmed him, and put him in a better mood to withstand their disparaging comments.

After a few more minutes, the distinct sound of excited women could be heard passing by the door.

Charles spoke up, "Well my lords, I believe that the women have finished tucking my daughter into bed and we may now proceed to the bridal chamber."

A deafening response of "hurrah" resounding throughout the room and then slowly, and unsteadily, the group of men began filing out in the direction of Isabella's room.

* * *

The women had left the men behind to fill their cups and had gone ahead to prepare Bella for her wedding night. Only Alice and Angela were aware that Bella had already been "bedded," but they went along with the charade with good humour. Bella, never one to be shy, was not uncomfortable with being stripped of her dressings and powered and groomed by the matrons around her. Neither the nudity nor the attention bothered her, for she was preoccupied with wondering how Edward would react to her current state.

The chamber had been transformed with fresh floor rushes scented with thyme and lavender, and the bed littered with rose petals. The ladies had thought of everything, even including a tray of bread and cheese and a fresh carafe of wine that Bella hoped she would be in need of later. The bishop had earlier blessed the marriage bed. Everything was ready.

The ladies brushed out Bella's long, dark tresses, whilst imparting advice on how best to cope with the "spearing of her maidenhead." Bella shared a covert smirk with Alice when they began but listened as if enraptured.

"Do not object to what he may wish to do, Isabella. Your young lord will have experience in these things, so it's best to have faith in him," an elderly aunt informed her. Bella couldn't trust herself to respond, though she did allow her eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"I don't know about that. My Brian appreciates it when I argue—makes him more amorous," commented a neighbouring lady that Bella did not have fond memories of.

A few more contributed to the discussion and eventually they came to the same conclusion Bella had reached at the very beginning—men had different tastes. She was betting that she knew more about Edward's than any other women in the room.

Biting her tongue, she bore the rest of the women's ministrations and was grateful when they finally led her to her bed. She lay down flat on her back while the ladies carefully arranged her hair upon the pillow and pulled the sheets up to her chin.

"Best to surprise him," her Aunt whispered and then winked. Bella had never wanted to roll her eyes more.

Alice came to her rescue. "Now ladies, I believe it time we leave Isabella alone so that the men may deliver her husband." Her request was met with much clucking from the older women, and giggles from the younger few. Bella huffed as she lay perfectly still, wanting them to hurry up. Alice saw and smiled warmly at her.

"Make him yours," she said, then quickly placed a kiss upon her cheek before drawing the bed curtains closed.

Bella lay completely still, very conscious of her arranged hair, and listened to the retreating females, straining her ears for any sound of the lords. Soon enough, a low rumbling that had always been present became louder and more distinct, and she knew that it was the men. She'd heard the stories of course, of all the things that could go wrong during the bedding revelries. Wine loosens even the most staid tongue, which meant often these events degenerated into arguments and slandering matches. Or there was worse—when one of the male guests would attempt to force himself onto the bride. Bella hoped the presence of the bishop would prevent any such scene, and if not, was certain her father would deal with the offender promptly.

Finally, Bella heard the door wrenched open and the sounds of drunken men filled the room.

"Ah, it is time! Off with that tunic, lad—you won't be needing that!"

"Hurrah!" came the answering call.

Another voice, rougher this time, began to make fun of Edward's countenance. Bella felt wronged on his behalf. How dare these men come into his wedding chamber and offend him—offend her! But she bit her tongue, and waited quietly, not wanting to bring any attention to herself.

"Come now, let us put the lad to bed—surely where he would prefer to be." That voice was her father's, and Bella was eternally grateful for his short patience.

"Ah, Charles, we have but begun to have fun. The lad can take some more, can he not?"

"I would, as Lord Charles supposed, much rather be bedding my wife at this moment." Edward was trying to sound brave, she could tell, but he wasn't fooling anyone. And, as expected, the sign of eagerness set off another round of jabs, this time about his apparent inability to sustain himself in bed.

Isabella was getting more and more frustrated. She didn't like that they were tormenting Edward like this, and not only that, she wanted him in bed already, too! After a few more minutes, she had sorely had enough. She carefully gathered the covers around her chest, crawled to the edge of the bed, and yanked open the curtain to the surprise of every man in the room.

"Gentlemen, please. It is late, and I tire easily. If my husband is to have any pleasure at all this evening, I suggest you let him be and leave us alone."

Her father's face was the one she noticed first. He looked taken aback, but as soon as their eyes met his face showed nothing but pride. All the guests looked like they'd been slapped, and Bella suspected many of them were now remembering the rumours about her behaviour from her earlier years. At last, her eyes found Edward. He looked harassed and... very naked up top. They were clearly still in the process of stripping him. On his face was a look of salvation, and he smiled at her, before looking at her chest and flushing in embarrassment.

"Well, men, you heard the lady. I believe it is time for us to make our departure," Charles added, not hiding the amusement in his voice.

"Thank you, father," Bella responded politely, and they shared another look that almost had Charles openly laughing. He was glad he wasn't losing his Bella after all.

One-by-one, the men all left, most of them grumbling until Charles reminded them there would be tankards of ale awaiting them in the hall. Once again, a loud cheer went up, and with renewed vigour, they hastily left the couple to their own devices.

Edward had watched the last of them retreat and then closed and latched the door, securing their privacy. He turned back and again flushed at the sight of his wife, naked except for the cloth she was holding to maintain her modesty.

She adored that he was so innocent, that he wasn't immediately helping himself to her body now that they were wed. But another part of her couldn't help but wish he was slightly more animalistic—that he would pounce on her at once.

Alice's words came back to her: _Make him yours._

"My lord husband," she began seductively. "I trust you are not upset that I sent your party away."

Edward laughed with joy at both her audacity and his reprieve. "My beautiful Isabella, I could not be more pleased with your actions. Although, I do wish they had not the opportunity to see as much of you as they did."

Tentatively, he made his back across the room, stopping before he reached the bed and struck by the dilemma his remaining clothes posed.

"Would my husband like some assistance in removing those?"

Edward gagged with shock. His eyes rushed to meet hers and found her staring at him with a devilish smirk and gleam in her eyes. Did he want her to undress him? He supposed so. Was this something that married couples did? Then he realised she would likely be doing it naked.

"Yes," he said quickly, his voice cracking slightly.

Bella smiled to herself and proceeded to slowly drop the sheets from her body so she could climb out of the bed. She watched him carefully, judging all of his reactions, making sure she wasn't pushing him too far. His eyes were huge—staring at her with blatant lust. She felt a sinful amount of pride for the effect she was having on him, and hurried to make her way to him before he embarrassed himself.

She sauntered up to him, and was ever so amused by the way he swallowed and blanched even further when his eyes drifted low. She didn't pause, stepping straight up to him and placing her hands on the tie of his braises.

"I hope you understood from my letters that I have been looking forward to this?" she asked him suggestively.

"Umm... er... yes. Yes, I did," her stammered, carefully staring at the wall above her shoulder.

"You need not be shy with me now. It is just us here, none other. And we are married now, Edward." His eyes snapped back to hers when she mentioned his name and he smiled.

"I like it when you say my name," he paused, "Isabella."

"Bella," she corrected. "Just Bella." And then she kissed him.

Bella breathed a sigh of relief because it was _good_. When they had first shared a kiss, Bella had thought it was messy, definitely too unfamiliar for it to be enjoyable. Now, she deduced their first attempt was most probably marred by nerves, for this was pleasant, tender, and... loving? His arms wove around her and he only hesitated for a moment before pulling her naked body closer to him. She gave up on undressing him completely, and just enjoyed the kissing for a while.

Eventually, Edward broke away. "I think I need to remove these now," he said sheepishly. Bella stepped back to allow him space and he made quick work of untying his pants.

"I've been waiting so patiently to have you again," he said, far too timidly. Still, it made Bella's insides bubble with the thought. "Those letters," he continued. "You have no idea what you did to me with your words. I was considering attending a neighbouring church so I could absolve myself without the shame of recommitting the same sin again and again."

Bella giggled out loud at that. "And what sin might that have been?"

He removed his last item of clothing, and stood rather awkwardly, arms by his side, blushing scarlet as he answered. "Self-pleasure."

The thought of Edward doing _that_ to himself made Bella even more aroused. She quickly recalled how he'd looked when he had climaxed inside her, then imagined him looking like that after stroking himself. She hoped the next time he did that, he would let her watch.

With two quick steps she was again in his arms, only this time, they were both naked. He groaned as she ground herself against him, which led to her doing it more so that she could continue to hear him sound like that.

"Isabella—"

"Bella," she corrected him again between kisses.

"Bella... I want you to know that I would never have knowingly disrespected you that night we were together." Internally, Bella groaned, worried that he was going to delay with a sermon. But then he surprised her. "However, I must admit to not being able to feel very repentant when it has brought us together now as man and wife."

She stopped kissing his body and looked up into his eyes.

He continued, "You are possibly the most... impulsive and mischievous woman ever, and I've no doubt your will would rival Eleanor of Aquitaine's. But, you are also intelligent and beguiling, and..." he paused as he ran his hand along her face, "beautiful. I am the luckiest man alive, to have such a woman as my wife."

No man had ever said such things to her. Most thought her will a flaw, and none found her nature beguiling. That Edward didn't seem to mind... it gave her a glimpse into a very happy future together.

"I will be a good wife for you," she vowed.

"I just want you to be you, for that is the woman I love." And with that he took her in his arms, embracing her and kissing the shocked smile on her face.

When he broke away, she couldn't help but laugh—a delighted sound that contained all her girlish hopes that they would be happy together. He joined her, though mostly because he found her unusual reaction amusing.

With glee, she pulled him toward the bed, determined to make this time more enjoyable for them both. She lay down first and was unable to stop grinning at the sight of Edward crawling on top of her. They kissed for a time again, but when he went to guide himself into her entrance, she stopped him.

"Not like this," she panted. He looked confused and even slightly annoyed. "There is something else I want to try," she explained.

"Oh."

It was one of the tawdry things Bella had overheard Sue talking about—a position that was almost guaranteed to help a lady see stars. She eased herself up and pushed Edward back.

"You need to lay down, with your back against the pillows," she instructed, trying to conceal how uncertain she felt.

Edward obeyed her without question and moved so that he was where she had been lying, though sitting up more.

_Now for the hard part,_ Bella thought.

She did as she'd heard Sue say and "straddled" her husband. Edward looked amazed, and Bella hoped she looked seductive, but was quite sure that wasn't the case. She hesitated as she hovered above him, wondering the best way to go about it, and then thinking it would be best for him if he were pushed into her completely, she dropped down suddenly on his erection.

"OW!" Edward yelled as she almost snapped him in half. Several words Bella could never imagine Edward saying in front of her escaped his lips.

"I'm so sorry, Edward! I didn't realise... Oh no, are you hurt? Should I call someone?"

"No! For all that is holy, do _not_ call anyone." He grimaced as he felt himself for damage. "I'm fine, I think. Maybe I just need a moment?"

She ran her hand up and down his arm comfortingly, while he continued to feel himself. She felt awful, but she couldn't help becoming aroused by the sight and pressed herself down on his thigh to help ease her own desire.

"You're so warm," he said, his eyes rolling back a little. Encouraged, Bella continued to press, but she also started to move. Before long, she could feel he had recovered sufficiently and she moved to try again.

"Wait! Let's just... let's just try it like this," Edward suggested. He found her opening and eased himself inside just a bit. "I think you can try now."

Slowly, so as not to hurt him again, Bella lowered herself onto Edward until they were as close as they could get.

"Oh, God," Edward said, then quickly followed with, "forgive me." Bella assumed it was for his blaspheme but wasn't sure. What they were doing felt sinfully good.

She moved around on top of him, trying to find what felt best, and he guided her when she hit a certain position that made them both moan in pleasure. They soon found a rhythm and before long, their movements turned to a frenzied pace, both of them straining to be closer. Bella wasn't sure what was coming over her. She felt wild, but couldn't bring herself to care. Only one thing mattered now, and that was reaching whatever it was she was writhing towards.

And then she reached it.

"Oh, Edward. Oh, Edward. Oh Edward!" she cried, reaching the peak of pleasure and riding it hard. Her whole body shook when the wave swept over her, and she could feel her insides contracting around him. He let out another of those profanities and he arched up, pulling her hips down against him, groaning as he released his seed into her.

He fell back against the pillows, so very satisfied, and Bella felt such wonder that she had made him feel that way. And he had let her! He loved her faults, and was not going to try and rein her in.

Edward's brow was covered in sweat and his chest was heaving from his exertions. Thinking of how she wanted to be a proper wife, she poured him some wine and passed it to him, loving the grateful smile he gave her.

"I love you," she said with perfect honesty, marvelling at how lucky she was. Everything she could ever want in life was before her: a husband who could provide for her, a man she could respect, and a lover who could satisfy her needs. She hadn't lied to her father when she'd said her price was an Earldom, but now... if she had to choose between Edward or an earldom, she would choose him.

She would choose love.

As she snuggled down next to him and shared the wine that he thoughtfully held out for her, she couldn't help but feel smug in the knowledge that she didn't have to choose.

For she had both.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who helped with this story: Sobriquett, PTB, mopstyle, and revrag. To everyone who has enjoyed the journey of medievalward, thanks. And to cosmo9, without whom this wouldn't have been extended - thank you!**

**Much love, **

**xxx ****Frenchie.**


End file.
